What’s up virgins. Sorry but I’ve been beyond busy these last few days, mostly doing things that only I could get away with doing. (Punching out dogs, ghost face killing, watching musicals and writing Knight Rider/M.A.S.K slash fic.)

– I’ve been bored. I’m trying to stay on the clean and sober path for 2k9. I’m trying to find out who I really am, trying to transform myself to be a more ‘authentic’ version of me. Mostly I want to distil myself to my true essence (which is what I used to think came out of my penis when I was young and would have dreams about Zeppelins and Anna Nicole Smith*.)

I often wonder what I really am; could anyone really be simply summed up in a sentence?

– You know how the elderly tend to dress the same as they did when they were in their prime? Or how some women seem to stick with a specific hair and make up style much longer than they should? Do you think this generation will do the same? Will I still rock skinny jeans and American appy thin tees well into my 50s? Will those x-treme dudes who wear volcom and billabong still be keeping it real and Just Keep Livin’ their life? Will they be the black jeans and tucked in t-shirts of the nows? Will I still be listening to Animal Collective in my 80s or will I be listening to some more suitable to my age.

– I no longer have a yeast infection. I miss it. It was something that I came upon all on my own. Like the first TV on the Radio album.

– Is there anything better than porn found on the television when you’re not expecting it? No, no there isn’t. Not even a cure for cancer. Ask most people with cancer and I’m sure they’d be pro found porn.

I’m going to be straight up with you Gs; I want people to look back at me and say: “wow, his words really struck a chord in me, he made me realize something profound.”

People constantly approach me on the street and reaffirm my belief that my words, my ‘voice’ is one filled with meaningfulness.

When me and my boys hang when we're older it will be even more meaningful because we're all dying.

I’m sort of like a power ballad played at the climax of your favourite prime time teen soap opera. If I was a music video it would involve people looking pensively to the ground with their hands over their faces, then boom, they slowly look up with a wounded look that conveys just how meaningful that moment is to them.

I’m like the best friend who after a crazy night of drunkeness and random make outs with randos you sit in the parking lot of McDonald’s and you talk about how “these are the nights we’ll always remember” and then we show each other our techniques on ‘finger banging’ and then describe the best tug job that we recieved from that rando who was willing to do more but stopped herself because she thought we’d respect her more, and maybe the two of us could have more than ‘meaningful tugsies in the laundry room at a mutual friend’s house party’

There have been occasions where I say something totally profound that people have asked me if they could use it as their facebook status update, or as a quote on their wall. I’m usually very flattered and allow them to do so because for me it was a throwaway comment that didn’t mean much, but to them it’s something that they’ll live the rest of their lives by.

Inspiring words take this meaningful picture to the next level

(“That Ukrainian stripper bit my penis” is a rally cry for those who feel uncomfortable in strip clubs.. you’re welcome.)

Sometimes I fear that maybe I’m not reaching enough people, because similar to Jesus I still only hang out with the same twelve dudes I grew up with, and have really only venture like 5 hours away from the safety of my Nazareth (Barrie, Ontario) Maybe that’s why I started this weblog because I want the world to understand that I’m ‘there for them’ and that ‘they can talk to me’

Also, It’d be nice to meet freaky girls who are DTF and want to try that dangerous stuff that could possibly get you arrested if you spring it on a girl who’s not prepared for it and or thinks that it’s ‘gross’ and ‘only something a crack addicted prostitute who’s done everything could ever really get her mind around.’

Hmm, I really wanted to keep this blog as something light and meaningful and far away from the grim and gritty real life that we inhabit, but sometimes things happen and people get sad and then I get sad and I realize that part of me life has completely and utterly changed. In saying that the only thing that’s really changed for me is realizing that never again will I read a new book by Donald Westlake.

The man was one of the masters of noir, and his books were a breeze to read filled to the brim with ultra violence and cruelty. I loved them to pieces.

According to numerous sources, author Donald Westlake died on New Year’s Eve in Mexico of an apparent hear attack on his way to dinner. He was 75.

Over the course of his career, Westlake had written more than 90 books, employing a number of pen-names, arguably the most famous of which was “Richard Stark,” under which he wrote the Parker series of novels.

Promo art from Cooke's adaptation of Westlake's Parker series.

Westlake was working with acclaimed comics creator Darwyn Cooke on graphic novel adaptations of the first four Parker novels for IDW Publishing, The Hunter (aka Point Blank), The Man with the Getaway Face, The Outfit, and The Mourner. I cannot wait for these but it will be a bitter sweet read.

Westlake is survived by his wife, four sons from previous marriages, three stepchildren and four grandchildren.

I honestly cannot urge all of you to go out and read his books. they’re quick reads, dense with lots of action and beautiful turn of phrases. If you liked Sin City’s murky values I really cannot recommend his books enough. He was also a bitterly clever and hilarious writer, it’s a HUGE loss to fans of crime novels, heck just fiction in general.